


Forced Silence

by ArtisticVicu



Series: Assorted Prompt Writings [5]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Drabble, Gen, Original Character(s), some have music boxes for souls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:55:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23420086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtisticVicu/pseuds/ArtisticVicu
Summary: No one ever leaves Korm. There are many rumors as to why. A stranger gets unlucky and finds out the truth.Prompt:The writing theme is music. You can write a song story, just a song, a musical, or just a story revolving around music.
Series: Assorted Prompt Writings [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1684657
Kudos: 1





	Forced Silence

The sun felt like it was burning the skin of his back buried beneath several protective layers of cloth as each step sank into hot sand. The horizon shimmered and quaked, the edge of it reflecting the sky as if there was a lake just beyond the next ridge.

He knew better than to hope that there was water hidden by the mirage.

The sand gave under each step but it was inconsistent and sometimes his footfall would hit solid earth for a step or four. The inconsistency wasn't the easiest thing to deal with but it was certainly better than what he was walking away from. A hot wind curled around him, coaxing him on through the scorching desert. The heat was a strange balm to the numbness that had frozen him far too long ago.

Had it been years or mere hours when it had stopped?

Unlike the stagnant state he seemed to be stuck in, time went on and the world around him continued to spin. The sun crossed to the horizon and dipped beneath it. The icy chill of night swallowed him as his own numbness had and he didn't come back to himself till the sun rose and bore into his back once more, burning what had been burnt the day before.

Would there even be any sign of the sun's presence under the layers he wore or was it all just a press that would vanish the moment he sought shelter from its touch?

Days passed. Weeks passed. Time moved on restrained by nothing and he lost track of it all. By the time he realized he was passing through a city, he couldn't even remember entering it, let alone seeing it in the distance.

He realized the cool touch of shade had woken him from his daze.

Sound assaulted him as the sun once had, reaching in and filling the numbness with _something_. The market was lively with merchants that had genuine joyous expressions - even if a few looked annoyed in a glance - and people chatting and laughing.

After so long wandering the desert alone, it was overwhelming.

It was too much.

"Are you alright, friend?"

Their voice was sharp in his head, their touch feeling far more like pain than the sun's touch had ever been. He jerked back, his head involuntarily twitching away as he instinctively tried to put distance between him and the sounds.

They're touch didn't leave and the pain slowly faded. "Come, friend. I know a place you can rest."

He was blinded when they dragged him indoors a while later and his sight didn't fully return till the cool wood of a table pressed against his palms, the booth soft around him.

"Here."

A glass clicked against the table in front of his hands and he stared, watching as the glass wept. The stranger tentatively pushed it towards him till it was pressed against the back of his fingers. "Drink, friend. It's water."

He wrapped his hand around the glass and brought it to his lips.

Utter bliss filled his mouth and slid down his throat, soothing an ache he hadn't even know existed. The bliss ebbed when the water ended and he found himself yearning for _more_. He carefully set the glass against the table, his eyes seeking out his new companion, the one that called him friend.

Their face was kind, open, and they were watching him. A smile came to their lips when he met their gaze. "There you are, friend," his companion spoke softly, as if it was a relief. "For a moment, I thought the desert had taken your soul."

"Korm did."

He choked on those two words as they grated against each other in his throat and on his tongue. That choke turned into a coughing fit and it hurt. Everything hurt.

Another glass was pressed to his lips. Cool water soothed some of the pain speaking had caused him but the bliss hadn't returned.

He felt hollow without it.

"No one escapes Korm's walls," the stranger spoke, their voice slow but wrapping around him like a blanket.

He opened his eyes to find they had moved to sit beside him, blocking him from the rest of the space. It was strange how it soothed and frightened him in equal parts. "I did," he spoke carefully. The words grated against each other. It wasn't pain but it certainly wasn't comfortable. "Anyone can. It's the sands that will kill us before Korm's walls."

The stranger shook their head. "But there's-what proof do you have beyond your word?" The stranger's expression twisted into distress. "They say all in Korm are changed so that there is no desire to leave."

He blinked at the stranger. "That is for those that enter the city - their choice or otherwise. For those of us made within the city, there is no changing. Only our souls lead us on. When those end, we have no more drive. It's why Korm is legend. Those like me never find the strength to step beyond those walls when our soul stops."

The stranger frowned. "Friend, I don't understand. What do you mean by 'made within the city'? Do you mean born? Birthed?" A hesitation. "Or something else."

"Something else."

"And what does it mean for your soul to stop?"

He dropped his gaze as he turned his attention to the buttons and clasps of his garments. They were covered in sand and seemed to have been exposed to sand for far too long. Some things were brittle and fell apart in his hands. There was a part of him that wondered why the stranger said nothing as they stared at him.

In the time since he had walked away from everything he had known, he had done nothing more than keep walking and it showed when he pulled the cloth from his skin. The edging of his soul compartment was tarnished, red and brown streaks from his sweat blending with the tarnish made it seem like the compartment had wept as he walked. He wondered if there was any chance of repair for his soul if the casing looking like this.

He sucked in a breath when the stranger's hand came into view. Their fingers were cold against his chest, sending a shiver down his spine as they traced the compartment's edge. "What is this?"

"My soul compartment," he spoke evenly. "It normally doesn't look quite so bad. I have neglected to take care of myself during my march."

Their fingers retreated as he pressed against the compartment's facing. There was a click, and then a hiss that he took as a good sign. The facing was now less than a quarter of an inch above skin level but it was enough for him to gain purchase and remove it.

The inside still looked pristine and it was a relief to know the seal had held through his neglect. The red and brown crusting around the rim wasn't a good sign though and he idly rubbed the flakes of rust and dried blood away as the stranger stared at the inner workings of a music box in his chest.

"That is your soul?" the stranger asked, their voice coming out breathy and quaking.

He touched it with careful fingers but the motion still caused the drum to roll and a few prongs on the comb twang oddly in the hollow in his chest. He jerked his hand back from it as his entire body seemed to be electrocuted by those few tones. They were hollow, forced, and nothing right about them and he quickly returned the facing. With a press, it clicked back into place. The only sign that there was even a compartment facing there was the red and brown edging he quickly hid.

The stranger's palm pressed against his chest as he worked the buttons of his shirt. "If it spun, would I hear it sing?"

He shook his head. "It is like a heartbeat. Only if you pressed your ear up to my chest."

"Does the song ever change?"

"It will ebb and flow with life as we follow its sound but its heart never changes. At least, not willingly."

"Why?"

He swallowed against the nausea. "It goes against who we are to change out the drum for another's. The song is our soul, our guiding force. What good would it do us to follow another's?"

"That's why your soul stopped, then - why you left Korm." He frowned at them but they kept going. "They changed the drum in your chest."

He flinched. "That would have been far easier to deal with than losing the heart of my song."

The stranger frowned at him but he didn't need them to understand. He had lost everything in Korm and his soul stopping was far more a blessing than a death sentence. At least this way he wouldn't be reminded of what he no longer had and desperately desired for.


End file.
